Vivid
by SleeplessThursdays
Summary: FIRST STORY! John is a depressed artist who strives to get into the art school of his dreams. Dave is blind, but has the ability to see the spirit world. Can Dave help John into his dream school?
1. Like the Leaves, We Fall

**Hey yall. This is my first story if you haven't noticed yet. Constructive criticism is acceptable and, actually preferable so I can make reading this story more enjoyable for you guys in later chapters. This might turn into a rated M story but if you don't want that, let me know. I don't own Homestuck (single tear slides down cheek), Andrew Hussie that SOB owns it. Enjoy.**

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A chill settles in on the park. The once deep green of the leaves have been transformed into the most vibrant hues of red and gold. A breeze flows through the trees picking up hordes of leaves at a time off the gnarled branches of the nearby trees. The cold bites at your face, but you don't mind. This is your favorite place to go when you want to be inspired. It's so still. So quiet. The usual chaos of the city doesn't reach here. The only symphony this place plays is the calm rustle of the redwoods and the chirping of birds. You and maybe 2 or 3 individuals are the only constant visitors.

A maple leaf falling onto your sketch pad brings you out of your thoughts. You stare down at your work in progress. A girl with long black hair poses in a form-fitting dress, the train falling to the ground in long shimmering black waves. She is also wearing a pair of long black gloves and, for some odd reason, a rifle. You felt that it was needed somehow. It adds the sense of danger about her, while still holding an air of mystery to her. You called it "The Mysterious Marksman". You've never been great with titles. Oh well. You sign it with your signature, JE, and neatly put your pad into your backpack, or as neatly as you can with all this clutter stuffed in there. You're pretty sure that there's a miniature Mt. Everest of pencils at the bottom. You pull out your phone.

You stare at it for a good minute or two before it starts to process. It's 3:45. OH SHIT! Yeah you need to get going. You don't want to be late! That could really hurt your chances at getting into your dream school. You are a striving artist. You've loved it ever since you were a kid. It kept you sane through the days in middle school where people liked to bully you. They made fun of you for it, but now is your chance to show the world what you're made of.

You sprint. You sprint as hard as you can. Through the streets, up numerous hills, and across the city. Once you got to the center, you were ready to all but pass out right there at the front door. _NO! FIGHT IT! YOU CAME SO FAR._ It was hell trying to get to where you are now. You shoo away the nausea now clouding your mind and push through the door. As you walk/stumble toward the desk, half the room stops what they're doing and looks at you funny. You can feel the beads of sweat crawling down your face and staining the color of your bright blue sweater and your unruly hair sticking to your forehead, the weight of your Ghost Busters themed backpack leaves the threat of tipping you over. But you keep walking. Now at the front desk, the attendant looks up at you with a face of disgust adorning her features. _I don't blame you._

"What do you want?" her voice sounds like a vulture's, raspy and horse.

"I'm here to- huff…. huff- submit my- huff huh- work." Your vision is starting to swim. Thank God you don't have to look at _her_ anymore. Unfortunately, you are very unhappily reminded of her presence via static noise.

"UUUUggggHHHHH, hand me your portfolio and fill this out," she shoves you a clip board with a piece of paper on it. Yep, it's official. She bothers you to no end.

"Here," you reluctantly hand her your file and begin to fil out the paper.

Name: John Egbert

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Bla Bla Bla

You hand her the now filled out paper and turn on your heel to leave, everyone still has their eyes on you. You speed out despite your intense fatigue; the crowd is incredibly uncomfortable to you.

Finally back in the park. You thought about going home but thought against it. The day is still upon us. _Might as well enjoy it_. A pair of birds fly around excitedly, making loopdy loops around each other. A massive amount of leaves begin to fall around you, a frenzy of reds and oranges envelopes you. You love the fall. It's one of your more favored seasons. It reminds you of home. Of Dad. You think he'd be proud of you. He'd always been proud of you.

CRASH!

Your head hurts. The sky is where the ground should be at the moment. Propping yourself up, you glance at what or who bumped into you. There crouched before you is a man, his bright blond hair covering his eyes, he was wearing a bright red hoodie with a dark red gear on it and skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees. He seemed to be frantically searching the ground for something. You look around the general area and spot a cane, one that was used for blind people. A pang of guilt passes over you. Shit. You walk over and pick up the cane and help up the man you ran into.

"Sir, are you ok? I'm soooo sorry I ran into you I should've been paying more attention I'm such a klutz! I'm so sorry again an-"You're interrupted by him holding up his hand.

"Dude, chill out. It's fine. I should've been watching where I was goin', ironic being blind and all." He chuckles. You don't know why but you find it adorable. It suits him well. "Now where's my cane?" He has a southern drawl to his speaking. To you, it sounds like honey, slow and sweet. But then, you remember the pole you are now holding and frantically give it back to him. In your jitteriness, you accidentally knock off his shades. His head instantly lowers. But when he raises his head back up, you were not prepared to see his eyes. His irises put polished rubies to shame. The intensity of the fire in his eyes was unreal. Deep red eyes met sapphire blue. Except they didn't. Those eyes looked into his very being, they saw into his deepest thought and feelings. You're pretty sure you could feel the radiance and heat emitting from them. They were hypnotic. You couldn't look away.

You are reminded that, there is a person attached to those eyes and pick up the shades. You place them in his hands. They are surprisingly soft. And warm. It feels like you've known this man for ages. It felt so comforting.

"Thanks, man. Oh yeah! I didn't catch your name," _Come on brain! This is the part where you tell him your name. Don't become a dumbfuck now_. Thankfully, your head got the memo and managed to reply without too much stupidness.

"John. John Egbert, and you are…" The mystery man slips on his shades again and positions his cane.

"Dave Strider. Nice to meet ya'".


	2. The things we can't see are the greatest

**Hello again. Sorry about the wait, but I did it! Here is chapter two for viewing (newfound respect for writers everywhere, it's harder than it looks). Again I don't own Homestuck and all that jazz. Constructive criticism is always open and enjoy.**

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Everything is dark, as always. The room is warm, save for the glass of cool apple juice in your left hand, a controller in your right hand. You're frantically waving the controller around you're area of sitting. You are very proud of the fact that you can play with only one hand.

But let's face it. You probably look like a massive dork right now.

You still adorn your eye mask, which, if you remember correctly, says "Don't disturb cat nap" on it (so ironic). You're not wearing pants, but decided to wear one of your many oversized sweaters. It's probably an XXL size, and you wear medium stuff. Even then medium fits quite loosely on you. Your bro told you that this particular hoodie was a deep reddish-maroon with an even deeper red clock gear on it. He said that it looked "ironically good" on you. Trusting Bro's judgment, now that you think about it wasn't the greatest idea you've ever had. But who gives a shit? You certainly don't. This is particularly one of your more favored clothing attires, hoodie with skinny jeans. Plop on a pair of convers or boots and voila! You have an instant socially acceptable wardrobe!

Now back to your underwear ('cause I know you were thinking about that). Again, you can only rely on the words of your older brother for this sort of stuff. It sickens you to the core that you could be wearing Batman or Spiderman undergarments. Or, better yet, princess undies, though you wouldn't mind Ariel _that_ much.

"An enemy approaches. It seems to be a super imp! What do you do?" This phrase coming from your TV pulls you out of your unsettling thoughts. You feel around the remote for the buttons you need. The overly dramatized game voice begins to tell you your options.

"Run, steal, fight!" You click on the OK button. All hell breaks loose now. It's time to unlock your special move (aka furious random button smashing).

The button smashing has escalated to unhuman speeds at this point, his avatar presumably jumping, slashing, and kicking feverishly. You hear rapid grunting sounds signaling the imminent demise of the super imp.

Finally, you hear a final roar and the little jingle that signifies victory is yours. _BAM! IN YOUR FACE, STUPID IMP_! The overly excited, peppy voice starts talking.

You were about to receive "THE GLORIOUS SWORD OF THE WELSH TIMELORD" when Dirk walked in. He was already prepped for his day. He wore low waist skinny jeans with the pockets tucked in and everything and an orange button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"Hey Bro" you say half-heartedly.

"Hey."

"What'cha been up to all mornin?"

"Oooh nothin much, just finished some heavy makin out with Jake. See you're being a disappointment to society as usual."

"Oh can it, will ya?"

"Na brah (deep breath intake), don't think I can." You proceed to flip him off. "Now now, it's too early in the mornin for that. Can't you see I'm trying to enjoy my day today?"

"No…. No I can't. I can't see jack for shit you ass."

"No debate there. Your ensemble says it all, man."

"Fuck you." As you were saying this, none other than Jake shuffles into the living room. He, unlike Dirk, does not look as put together. His hair is disheveled and his thick square glasses are crooked on his face. That must've been some damn good make out session because his shirt is on lopsided and….. he is not wearing pants.

"See, Dirk, I'm starting a fashion trend here. It's all the rave these days."

"MMMmmmm…..hm." is all you get from the receiving end. Jake flounders around trying to grasp what he wants to do for a bit. He remembers apparently and makes his way toward the couch. He proceeds to unceremoniously flop onto the couch beside Dirk.

"Mornin ol' chap. How was your sleep last night?"

"It was ok. It seems you didn't get much sleep though, I presume." With this his face went at least seven shades redder.

"A-actually… It was fine, thank you very much." You feel a smirk play on your lips, Dirk is wearing a similar smug expression. Dirk, being the insufferable prick he is, presses up against Jake and begins to do draw slow circles on Jakes chest.

"Oh it was _more_ than fine. Your moanin made that quite clear." He all but husk moaned that last part into Jake's ear. You don't know it was possible, but his face got redder still.

"For the love of- uuugggghhhhh I'm goin for a walk." You save your game and speed walk, (or at least as fast as you can without running into a wall) away from the love sick couple infesting your house, to your room. A loud Bang can be heard as you slam your door shut. Moans and sloppy kissing can be heard from the other side of the door. Jesus Christ. You should've kicked them out long ago.

But, now that you thought about it, a walk does seem really nice right around now. You honestly just wanted a reason to get out of there, but you are thinking about following up with it. It takes a while, but you find a pair of jeans that don't smell like it got shoved into a gym locker. These might actually be new. They still have that fresh store bought smell to it. These will do for today.

.oO0Oo. .oO0Oo. .oO0Oo.

They fit like a glove on you. You don't know what they look like but they feel amazing. So you don't give any 2 shits about it. You search around a bit more and come across a pair of convers shoved half heatedly underneath your desk. Oh YES! These were your favorite, but you lost them a month or so ago (so that's where they went). For the final touch, you switch out your eye mask for something a bit more fitting for your attire, our trusty shades. Tah-daah! Ready for the day.

You were near the door. Dirk and Jake are in full make out mode. Both their shirts are completely off and covered in a thin sheet of sweat. Dirk is firmly pressed on top of Jake's moaning body. Their tongues in a tango of passion and heat.

"OH JAKE! Yes! MMMmmmMmmhh! So sugoi!"

"Dirk. OH HOPSCOTCH! _Yes_!"

This is too much. "Fuck you guys. I'm going." They don't stop. Imagine that.

The coolness of the open air breezes over you as you open the door. A flurry of sounds comes at you like an explosion that surrounds your being. Living in the cities has it perks and its…. not so perky perks, the onslaught of noise being one of the not so admirable traits. People talking, cars zooming by, horns honking, it's all a little too much for you sometimes. You only stay here because your older brother, Dirk, insisted that you stay here, and not because he's dead, but because he said that something was going to happen here. He wanted to stick around long enough to see it happen; at least that's what he said.

Since a walk through the city is near impossible for someone of your disability, you like to head to the park nearby instead. There are less people and spirits there to get in your way.

You walk along with the stream of people. Even though you're legally considered blind, you can see things most people can't. Everything is hazy, the landscape is just a frenzy of muddied colors, but souls are crystal clear. The living are sort of just cardboard cutouts of themselves. There are no recognizable facial features or traits, but their souls are fascinating to look at. Happy people are usually brighter and lighter hues while people who are troubled have muddier, duller colors. If they are spunky and sassy, they are bold colors like hot pink, red, or strong colors in general. If they are more reserved, they are cooler, more saturated colors like purple, green, and blue. White spirits are really confusing though. They serve no purpose and have no personality or traits that you can sense. They're sort of unsettling.

Dead people are a different story. Dead people look exactly like a regular person, but with a small aura around them. You can talk to them and stuff. Nothing different there, but when you die, you get a new spectrum of knowledge untouchable to living beings. They also get their own "power" per say.

Dirk died committing suicide after Jake, his boyfriend died in a car crash. This was about when you were 13 or so. Dirk's power is the power of foresight. He can sense when things are going to happen. They're usually really important, like "huge impact on my life or the lives of others" sort of thing. This is why you stay here in the city. He told you to.

Jake's power is the power of entity. If he tries hard enough, he can make certain things happen. If he really wants to, he can create a future where you're president or an entire city all the sudden has a flu breakout. That's unlikely though. He could barely hurt a fly when he was alive.

As you walk through the crowd, you notice all the different souls wandering about. Some are bright and bold while others are a bit softer. Most, unfortunately, are pretty dulled from stress and anxiety. It makes you wonder why Dirk can stand this place. Knowing him, he doesn't. But there's something that's going to happen and it's big enough to make him want to stay. You keep asking him what is so important that keeps him here.

He never responds.

.oO0Oo..oO0Oo..oO0Oo.

There is no rush. No chaos here. The park is like a sanctuary for you. The stillness and the overwhelming peace that floods you is only thing you like about this city, its park. From what your impaired vision still allows you to see, the world around you is a vibrancy of color. A few souls wander here and there, but, they too, are taken over by the rejuvenating effect of this place has. Their souls are much more at ease than the ones walking the streets.

So immersed in the beauty this place has to offer, you fail to notice someone walking into you, and, rather forcefully at that. The breath is stolen from you as you collide with someone. Almost in slow motion, you and the person in front of you start to fly backward, hair is flipping in all directions and loos articles go flying. You can feel your tailbone ache from the landing. Your mouth opens to say something, but the person in front of you beats you to the punch.

"Sir, are you ok? I'm soooo sorry I ran into you I should've been paying more attention I'm such a klutz! I'm so sor…"

His voice is for his age. He's on the shorter end of the spectrum, but he's lean, almost seems like he's been carved out of stone. Despite his muscles, he has an air of playfulness and innocence about him. His soul is a blue-ish green, almost like ocean on a tropical beach on a sunny day. The colors swirl and mold together in a slow dance. It's mesmerizing to say the least. But, you can tell something is on his mind.

You hold up a hand to stop him. If he keeps on going like this, you might end up doing something you'll most likely regret later. "Dude, chill out. It's fine. I should've been watching where I was goin', ironic being blind and all." You can't help but laugh a little at your amazingly ironic pun. You have to admit it was pretty good. "Now where's my cane?" Trying to stand up without knowing where you're going can be pretty hard. The man in front of you jumps a fraction at the sudden reminder that he is currently in possession of your trusty cane. He's frantic to try and give you your cane back, frantic to the point where, when he moves in to hand you your cane, the end of it hits the side of your face with a soft thud. You hear the faint clattering of what you can only assume are your aviator shades.

Shit.

This isn't good. What if he sees? What if he makes fun of you for it? You never did like that about your surprise revilement of powers. Your eyes used to be chocolate brown. Now, they are the color of blood. It's really embarrassing. It makes you feel like a freak of nature. But who could blame you, you technically are. It's still not fun when people call you out on it.

You sit there as he gawks at you. He doesn't say anything. His soul is getting flustered. The sudden speed of color and swirling says it all. _Please stop, stop looking at me_. He finally starts with a slight jolt of remembrance and clumsily hands you your shades back. His hands are completely frozen over, but they're tender and soft. That slight contact sent electricity surging through you. You need more, but you refrain from doing so. Don't want to scare him now. He seems special somehow. You don't know how, but it feels so right that this man bumped into you, like it was the will of the universe. _Now, don't get to cheesy, Dave. A simple hello will do for now. Besides, everything starts with a hello_.

You put your shades back on as to stop from people staring. You start, "Thanks, man. Oh yeah! I didn't catch your name." He starts to fluster searching for the words. It takes a few seconds but he manages to find them.

"John. John Egbert, and you are…"

With a smirk you stand up and adjust your pullover and your cane. A gust of wind passes by sending the world around you into a swirl of red and gold.

"Dave Stider, nice to meet ya'."


End file.
